Chapter 4 - ECHOES OF GREED
I pressed play. The high-quality audio file, recorded directly on my phone the previous night, blasted through the massive surround-sound speakers of the St. Regis ballroom.
“God, I can’t believe you have to pretend to like that old bat for another day,” a voice echoed. It belonged to Chloe, the Maid of Honor.
Then came Natalie’s voice. Crystal clear, dripping with venom and a cold, calculating laugh. “Are you kidding? Once Jackson and I say 'I do,' she’s writing over the trust. There are one hundred twenty million reasons to put up with her. After the transfer clears tomorrow, I'm putting the ridiculous old woman in a home and taking over the estate.”
“What if she won’t leave?” another bridesmaid giggled.
“She’ll leave. I’m going to break her down until she begs to leave. She's pathetic without her husband.”
I stopped the audio.
The silence that followed was apocalyptic. It was the sound of a carefully constructed, multi-million-dollar facade shattering into a million jagged pieces. The guests stared at Natalie in absolute disgust. Several of her bridesmaids were shrinking back, hiding their faces behind their bouquets.
Jackson stood frozen, his eyes locked on the woman he had just vowed to spend his life with. "Natalie?" his voice cracked, a devastating mix of heartbreak and rising fury. "Is that... is that you?"
"It's fake!" Natalie shrieked, her voice shrill and desperate. She leaped up, knocking over a crystal champagne flute. It shattered on the floor. "Jackson, she's lying! She hates me! She hired someone to fake that audio using AI! It's a deepfake! You know she never wanted us to get married!"
She reached for Jackson’s arm, but he violently jerked away from her as if she were made of fire. "Don't touch me," he growled.
"He's right, Natalie," I said smoothly. "Audio can be faked. It's a marvelous age of technology we live in. Which is why audio is rarely enough on its own."
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I turned to the DJ, a young man who looked absolutely mesmerized by the unfolding drama. "Son, could you drop the projector screen, please? And switch the input to the USB drive I handed you earlier?"
The DJ nodded frantically. Behind the sweetheart table, a massive, twenty-foot white screen rolled down from the ceiling. The lights in the ballroom dimmed. Natalie let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob. The trap had fully closed, and the jaws were lined with steel.
